


A Job Well Done Was Never Good Enough

by uwunium



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Blaseball Is Run On The ENIAC, Blaseball gods, Gen, Headcanon, Parker's trial, Speculation, Worldbuilding, a lot of speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwunium/pseuds/uwunium
Summary: Parker MacMillan III is nervous before his trial.(CONTAINS LOTS OF SPECULATION ON CANON!)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	A Job Well Done Was Never Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo!!! Long time no see, at least on this account. (I posted another fic on the tacos AO3 account though.)
> 
> The ending of the trial hit me like a truck! I miss Park3r every day!!!!!!!! And as I like to do, I wrote a piece exploring the "calm before the storm." 
> 
> I DO wanna give some context though. This contains a lot of my worldbuilding HCs that I haven't really shared outside of a few servers, so it might be a bit confusing? I'll probably expand on it a bit later, but basically the fans, We, are the "material plane" and our votes are calculated in this big in-universe computer. The power from the material plane is utilized to change the league. Again, this is not meant to be anything resembling canon and is just meant to be "hey this is how I think X thing could work." Most of this will probably be proven VERY WRONG, and i am a-ok with that :) i just have many thoughts, brain full.
> 
> Anywho, my twitter is @uwunium, where I post lots of blaseball stuff because I have BRAINROT! Feel free to check it out :)

“Hey Sunman?” a young man stood up from behind a computer screen, “I’m nervous about the trial.” The man was hardly old enough to be called a “man.” He was tall and lanky and thin, looking like an average 19 year old college student you could have picked out of any community college in the immaterial plane. His face was obscured by a mask resembling a blaseball, hiding all of his features aside from his curly and fluffy black hair. He seemed like a normal human guy. Well, aside from the two pointed ears that showed slightly when he turned his head, a telltale sign that this young man was more than meets the eye.

“WHY DO YOU SAY SO?” The booming voice of an umpire rang through the room’ reverberating off of the machinery and dials and wires and gauges that covered every wall of the medium space. The room was made of oppressive concrete. The air was stale and warm, and filled with the countless buzz of computer fans, the hum of fluorescent lights, and the noise of clunky mechanical devices somehow still functional despite seemingly holding on by nothing but sheer willpower. Countless wires hung from the ceiling, just far down enough to brush the heads of the large, imposing umpires that sometimes visited.

“Everyone’s ganging up against me. Look around!” Parker, despite his mask covering his entire face, motioned to a few screens that were wired up to the mainframe of the enormous computer that took up the space of the room. “What if they’re right? What if they win and I get demoted?” Parker sat down into one of the chairs in the room. “I just got this job as CEO. I don’t wanna lose it.”

“IF SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS,” Umpire Sunman’s voice boomed once again, sounding like a choir of voices somehow distorted and unified into a single tone, “YOU WILL DEAL WITH IT.”

“But… Aequitas was so kind to let me have this job.” Parker continued, “I can’t let her down! But already…”

Sunman stood quietly, simply observing.

“They’re SUING me!” They’re suing the CEO of Blaseball! I- I didn’t even DO anything!”

Sunman fixed a fold in his wing.

“I’m… I’m being blamed for all of this.” Parker said, defeated. He leaned back more in his chair. “I just wanted to keep the ILB happy. I didn’t even WANT to be here.”

“THE TRIAL IS IN ONE HOUR.” Sunman voiced.

Parker sat in silence, and turned his head towards the central monitor in the room. Just like so many of the players whose games he watched, he too did not expect to be in the position he was currently in. He was just 19. He was an average film student from a small community college in Los Angeles at the time; the time when he heard that blaseball would be making a return to the immaterial plane. He never thought much of it. Parker was never an athletic kid of any sort, so he never thought of himself ever becoming involved in splorts. Plus, there was a risk of his mask falling off and exposing others to the mysterious ‘curse’ his parents warned him about if anyone ever saw his face. So needless to say, he didn’t pay the ILB any mind.

That was, until he received a strange email.

>From: Internet League Blaseball  
>Date: unknown  
>Subject: YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED FOR AN INTERNSHIP WITH THE ILB

Parker expected it to be another scam email- he was an adult who had practically been RAISED by the internet, so he knew what to trust and what to throw out. And yet… There was no mistaking the sender. It truly WAS the ILB sending him an email.   
But… Why? He read on.

“DEAR PARKER MACMILLAN III,

THE ILB HAS TAKEN NOTICE OF YOUR EXISTENCE IN THIS PLANE. WE HAVE BEEN CLOSELY OBSERVING YOU FOR THE PAST FEW MONTHS, AND OUR SUSPICIOUS WERE CORRECT- WE BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVE THE UNIQUE SKILLS REQUIRED TO BECOME A COMMISSIONER. PLEASE CONTACT US IF YOU ACCEPT THIS OFFER. FULL TERMS AND CONDITIONS ARE ATTACHED BELOW.

OH ALSO YOU WILL BE PAID

> Attached: AGREEMENT_FINAL_FINAL_RECOVERED.pdf

And from there, the rest was history. Parker agreed, never reading the terms and conditions, as an average strapped for cash 19 year old kid would. He never expected to be changed from who he was- he became the same kind of immortal being that the players were- they couldn’t sleep, couldn’t age, and would be in this position for all eternity- unless their life was cut short by the flames of incineration, which is the only way these beings could die.

He learned how to channel energy from the material plane easily, allowing him to be great for the position of commissioner. Despite the computer’s infrastructure being nearly indecipherable, he managed to make a system of it- feed in the punch cards; watch the approval gauges move. And at the end of every week on the material plane, nearly half a year on the immaterial plane, he would stop the gauges and give a final reading, and the umps and higher-ups utilized the energy from the material plane to change the league. Sometimes, Parker would even make his own punch cards to feed into the machine, with little comments and jokes and lots of instances of “what” and “uhh.”

He climbed the ranks quickly, eventually becoming prime minister, and then becoming the CEO of Blaseball. He was on top of the world. He even began to befriend the umpires, who were practically the only friends he had anymore. He began to trust them. And yet, he was nervous. He was about to be tried in the court of law after a decade of being the commissioner. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the quiet beep of incoming messages. Parker looked towards the screen once more, and his eyes widened under the mask.  
“You’re doing great!”

“The Commissioner is doing a great job”

“Hi parker good luck also im goku”

“Even if we don’t get our ETR money, we still love you Parker!”

“Lets go Parker baby love the Parker”

There were messages of love. Messages of respect. People CARED about Parker. As his head moved to read the messages, a tear fell from under his mask. 

“...They're right.” Parker said out loud. “I know it’ll be okay.” He said to himself, looking back at Sunman. “I have the fans supporting me. I have Aequitas supporting me. And… I have you guys.”

Sunman looked up, seemingly taken aback by this statement.

“Yknow… Despite everything,” Parker said, sitting up in his spinny office chair. “You guys have always been here for me. Even after Husky died, you guys were willing to comfort me.” Parker smiled under his mask, which Sunman somehow was able to pick up on despite not seeing his face. “...Uh… Thanks.”

“WHAT” Sunman said, incredibly confused.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen in this trial… But…” Parker stood up, “Even if I get demoted ALL the way back down to just being an interim-intern, that’s okay! As long as I can make sure everyone is happy. It doesn’t matter if they’re on the field or watching from the material plane. We are all love blaseball.”

“SUNMAN, WE NEED TO GO.” Umpire Chaff opened the door leading out of the underground bunker.

“what” Parker said, suddenly remembering the trial.

“UHH…” Sunman showed more emotion than he had at any point throughout Parker’s speech, “SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING.”

“YOU KNOW I CAN’T BE MAD AT YOU, SUNMAN.”

“THANK YOU, CHAFF.”

“DON’T MENTION IT.”

As the umpires floated out of the door, Parker did one last run through of the computer to ensure the connections were working properly. He checked the astral wires to the material plane for connection errors, made sure the blue one and the pink one and the red one and the entire rainbow of wires were placed in their proper spots. He looked at the gauges, which were turned off as expected during the ILB’s siesta. The one gauge that was still lit as he opened the door and turned off the lights was the gauge assigned as “Commissioner approval rate.”

Parker smiled as he walked out the door for the last time. 

The needle had never once moved from the highest position. It never moved off of the word “great.”

**Author's Note:**

> When writing this, i made the realization that me saying "blaseball runs on an ancient computer from the 40s" also has the double meaning of "blaseball is a mess" 
> 
> its funny because i legit only added it because old computers are neat. i are love blaseball.
> 
> ok tangent done ty for reading :) follow me on twitter @uwunium


End file.
